Vertigo
by Zimo
Summary: Hiccup left moments before Astrid came to the clearing and saw Toothless and now seven years into the future he trots the globe to study dragons while her family desperately try to get her married off. Things though have a round about way of working out.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: How to train your dragon belongs to its respective owners.

Prologue

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third was possibly the worst Viking ever in existence, even worst than Fowleye the Wimpy and Croaknose the Scared. It was not a lack of courage that was not the issue. He had quite an unhealthy dose of that, thank you very much. Nor was it his physic, albeit he was a little on the lean side for a Viking but the recent loss of his right eye more than compensated for it (War wounds were extremely popular in Viking society, especially amongst the women). No, Hiccup simply lacked the quintessential philosophy that lay at the heart of every good mead chugging, axe grinding sea warrior.

He did _not_ hate Dragons.

Not even the little ones.

And he didn't have an overwhelming urge to go out and rape and pillage the nearest village either. Village pillaging in his opinion was the wasteful destruction of ethnic cultures and the raping didn't go down too well with the ladies, or the men on the receiving end for that matter.

This disdain for all things Viking probably stemmed from that fact that Hiccup was a rather intelligent individual. In Viking terms, this meant that he used his head for things other than breaking rocks. Useful things like drawing and algebra and metal work. Maybe if he had been born into another race, his gift would have been nurtured and encouraged but in the world of brawn and battle, intelligence was not held in high regard. Mainly because it led to soft mushy feelings such as acceptance, compassion and understanding.

It was because of those undesirable qualities (compiled with the unhealthy dose of courage mentioned earlier) that Hiccup found himself in his current position; More then twenty thousand feet in the air, battling through the snow covered mountain with his dragon friend, Toothless as they searched for, you guessed it, _dragons_.

Hiccup gasped for breath. It wasn't just human life that found it difficult to survive at high altitudes, the air itself seemed to be struggling. Up ahead, a delighted Toothless bounced through the snow, completely unaffected by the extreme conditions. The man scowled jealously and shuddered in his furs. For a reptile who spent long winters curled up in a volcano, the dragon was adapting remarkably well to the cold.

Roof Top mountain was part of the wider and unimaginatively named Snowy Caps Mountain Ridge located right on the border between Turfan and the Middle Kingdom. It was a barren godforsaken wonderland where if you weren't killed by the avalanches or blinded by the glare of the sun, you still have a good chance of loosing half your foot to frost bite. Extreme snow storms and thin air meant that it could not be cleared safely by flight so Hiccup was forced to the tackle the monster by foot.

He pressed onwards towards the cave near the summit, idly calculating the likelihood of returning to the bottom with all ten toes still intact. The probability was extremely low. Especially after he'd taken the Lama's advice against travelling on Dragon back. Human bodies, changing altitudes and high speed did not mix well.

"You all right boy?" he wheezed as Toothless bounded towards him.

The black skinned reptile peered down at him with unimpressed and pointedly nudged the man with his head.

"I'm fine... Just... a... little breathless. Odin, look at that view..."

The great exploding white of the Snowy Caps spilt the sky around them. From where he stood, the mountain peaks looked as if they might burst through the earth's atmosphere and out into the heavens above.

"It really puts things in perspective, doesn't it?" he sighed, feeling a little refreshed. "Chin Tu better be right about there being dragons up here, otherwise I'm gonna drive an icicle through his nose."

The dragon snorted sceptically. According to local myth, Roof Top was home to the celebrated and legendary Five Claw Lopslang. Hiccup remained optimistic that such a creature existed despite evidence pointing to the contrary. He hadn't seen one tell tale scorch mark, large dropping or mauled cow carcass in twenty thousand feet. And for a beast that was rumoured to be the size of the Forbidden Kingdom it would be highly unlikely that the droppings of such a dragon would go unnoticed.

* * *

Hiccup blinked a few times just to check that he hadn't been deceived. Lack of oxygen did funny things to one's brain after a certain amount of time. Nope. They weren't. Beside him Toothless was staring at the reptile with an equal look of disappointment. They had finally made it to the cave at long last and thankfully found the Five Claw Lopslang, or what Hiccup assumed to be the Lopslang anyway. From the cave floor, the bug-eyed reptile dragon blinked up at him.

"It's tiny."

Toothless grunted as he continued to stare. Hiccup had never seen anything so small in his life. So much for the Forbidden City. There was no way in Hel you'd be able to find the droppings of this dragon. It looked like a scaly bush baby with wings on its back and a long snout. Big blue eyes blinked again and Hiccup resisted the overwhelming urge to cuddle it.

"Kinda disappointing don't you think? I mean, all that way for _this_?"

Judging by the dumbfounded expression on the Night Fury's face, Toothless didn't disagreed. Hiccup sighed and unloaded his back pack. He couldn't really complain. They had just found possibly the rarest (and smallest) dragon in existence in the remotest cave location on the earth. At least the view had been worth it.

The curious Five Claw sniffed at Hiccup's feet. He was probably the first human the little thing had ever encountered.

"Do you like dried meat, little fella?"

A large set of pointy teeth extended in its answer. Hiccup tossed Toothless some rations before leaning back against the wall with his notebook.

"The Elusive Five-Claw Lopslang." He carefully wrote the words "to scale" beside the quick sketch of the dragon. "Thirty centimetres in size including its long spindly tail. Wingspan roughly- OI! None of that!"

From inside the mouth of his backpack, the tiny dragon swallowed two scraps of meat. Hiccup felt his eye twitch in annoyance. They didn't have many rations left after their three day hike from the monastery. Toothless growled and it retreated hastily to the crook beneath Hiccup's legs.

"-Carnivore. Most likely eats small birds and rodents. Anything else you wanna tell us?"

There was a loud burp and a massive green flame erupted from the Five Claw.

He arched an eyebrow. "O-_kaaay_! Small but extremely fire powered. Hmm, mythical Lopslangs supposedly breath green flames too. I'm glad to see that there's some basis for the rumours."

One thing was certain, he would never bore of studying dragons. In seven short years he had seen some spectacular beasts; Like the Quozalcoatl, who created beautiful smoke sculptures with its nostrils and the shy rainbow Gokin Aoqin, one of the few sea dragons left. And then there had been the graceful Hakku from the far eastern islands that swam through the air with no wings. Dragons fascinated him. He unabashedly admitted that he could sit and watch one preen itself for hours. Aside from the variety in shape and size, every one had their own unique personality. However, like humans not all of them were good. The larger the dragon, the more likely it was to try and eat you. His missing eye was homage to that fact.

But Hiccup hadn't just met dragons on his travels. There had been humans as well. Humans of all different shapes and sizes and colours of skin. With great, bizarre, wonderful cultures so alien to his own that he didn't even know if a simple smile would be taken as an offensive. For the most part the people had been great. In the warm countries to the West they had thought that he was some sort of god when he landed. Where as in the dark stuff forests of the South, they had affectionately nicknamed him the "White Devil" before trying to sell him to a Turkish slaver. Good times.

What interested him the most, was peoples attitudes towards dragons. The Middle Kingdom for example revered them as gods, with the emperor taking a now inaccurate drawing of a Five Claw Lopslang as his symbol. Others held a more Viking philosophy but Hiccup liked to think that Toothless had altered their points of view a little.

He truly did want to believe that one day humans and dragons would live a peaceful coexistence but as long as people like his father existed, they probably never would.

The led of his pencil bit into the page at the thought and Toothless turned his head accusingly.

"_What?_ I was leaning too hard!"

The dragon narrowed its eyes. The damn reptile was too perceptive for his own good. Hiccup sighed and touched his leather eye patch with his fingers. Admittedly he did miss Berk. He missed the nine months of snow and three of hale. He missed sharpening the swords in Gobber's Smithery. Hel, he even missed being told that he was a useless nuisance.

When he ran away all those years ago, it hadn't been because of Toothless but because he was too much of a coward to stand up for what he knew was right. But now, undoubtedly because of him, many innocent dragons and people had lost their lives since.

There was a soft purr beside him. Hiccup smiled weakly at the tiny dragon rubbing up against his leg. Some day he'd put it right. He had to put it right.

A/N: Please note that I use the British way of spelling. Yes I know, its awkward and there's an annoying amount of extra letters etc. Feel free to review. Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: How to Train Your Dragon belongs to its respective owners.

* * *

Chapter One

"Fear-Allabain"

For as long as Astrid could remember, there had been a cloak of wild rumours and false tales surrounding the old wise woman and village elder, Wilda Wobblebark. It is unfortunate to say that the demonisation of the elderly was common in small settlements such as Berk. In general, Vikings struggled to reach twenty five with all their limbs still intact and were therefore naturally suspicious of anyone who was over fifty years of age. Especially when they claimed never to have fallen foul of even a light cold. Such talk was unfathomable.

Further more, no one actually knew what age she was. Some said that she was in her late nineties at least. Others took a more creative stance, believing her to be one of the undead. Astrid, however, like to think that she belong to the Mesolithic period of early man.

But for all the bruit and whispered gossip, without Wilda the village would simply not survive. It was her wisdom that led them through the bleakest of times. Her hands that lifted the sickness from those at death's door and her eyes... Her eyes could read right into your soul.

Of course no one had ever tested this theory. Most people avoided making eye contact with the old woman because of a certain rumour that said the looker would be struck down by a terrible case of diarrhea if they held her gaze for more than five seconds.

Astrid wondered, as she sat between the massive bodies of her mother and father by Wilda's hearth, if the woman was not in some way responsible for the spread of all the landlish stories. After all, what was the fun in getting old if you couldn't scare people a little?

Her musings were interrupted by the building intensity surrounding both her parents. Astrid resisted the urge to scream. The hut was already so cramped that their stiffness was making it damn near impossible to breath. That and the smell was awful. It was two months since her last visit to the rotten old shack but her disgust was quickly returning with a renewed sense of enthusiasm.

The place was crawling, _literally_.

Astrid wondered if the true reason behind Wilda's good health was merely a case of over exposure. Her home was so horrendously filthy that she had to be riddled with some sort of disease. She probably had hundreds of them but they were all too busy fighting for dominance to actually take down their host.

Astrid blanched as a sheep pissed on a basket of bread in the corner. Despite winter being long gone, the old woman insisted on keeping her animals inside all year around and with no pens to put them in, they had free reign to trample over everything.

It wasn't just the animals that were the problem. The floor itself was covered in the fossilized remains of food and Odin knows what. Dried bull phalluses hung from a rack above the fire and a fresh chicken carcass was lying in its own blood amidst jars of dried herbs and other obscure folk remedies on the bed.

There was a loud bleat behind her. Astrid turned to see a goat eyeing up her braid. She glared threateningly and the animal seemed to think better of it. After this she was going to go home and take a nice warm bath. A visit to Wilda's always left her skin crawling.

"Well?"

The table wobbled against her father's massive knees as he leaned over the runes in the middle of the bronze plate. A tremendous bulk of fat and armour, his presence dominated all remaining space in the tiny room.

Astrid had often observed that married couples developed a bizarre tendency to look like one another after a prolonged period of time together. The only physical difference between her mother and father was that one had a red beard and the other had a blond one (her mother had incredibly poor grooming skills).

Wilda glared at him with her sharp blue eyes before turning her attention back to the runes. For someone who's future and very happiness depended on the fickle nature of the stones, Astrid felt surprisingly calm. After all, she had already been through the whole ordeal ten times before and the stones had not failed her then. She knew that they would not fail her now.

The elder's brow creased thoughtfully and she brushed the symbols with the tips of her fingers before giving an almost routine shake of the head.

"Barrenness, poverty and infidelity."

There was a loud crack as wood splintered beneath her father's fists.

"Again?" he barked. "Do those bloody things say anything else?"

"Mind that table, you troll!"

He removed his hands with all the guilty grace of a child. Wilda scooped up the runes and placed them back in their little draw string bag.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it ain't wise to go questioning the gods? Useless lout. I don't know where Baldwren went wrong with- "

Astrid released the breath she had been holding. It was customary in Berk to consolidate the stones on all potential marriage matches and for the most part, their predictions were correct. Astrid felt almost dizzy with relief. Thank Freya, she would not have to marry Snarlfard of the Meatheads. Unfortunately, her delight did not go unnoticed by her mother.

"Don't look so happy. This is your future here!" she belated her.

"That's why I'm happy," she snapped back. "Have you ever smelt Snarlfard? It's disgusting! The man has his own set of flies."

"That may be, but he has ten acres on the north side of the island and a four score of sheep."

"A three score actually," she corrected her. "And dwindling every night!"

Astrid hadn't mentioned to her parents that she had "accidentally" let a group of Deadly Nadders fly off with quite a few of Snarlfard's live stock the week before.

"-He's got more riches than just the sheep. Besides, if you could get him to wash he'd be a fine lad."

"Its not just the outside, Mom. His breath stinks as well and he's missing four of his front teeth."

"You're a Viking! Since when do you care about a few lost dentures?"

"It would be like kissing an old person- No offense Wilda," she added hastily, remembering that they were still in the presence of the elder.

Wilda shot her a wide gummy smile. "None taken lass. Milkweed, Freda. A marriage to young Snarlfard is completely out of the question. As elder I won't allow it."

Astrid could have sworn that she winked at her. It was terribly disheartening to think that the only person she had on her side was a batty old woman who sold dried bull penises to couples with infertility problems.

"Odin's eye!" groaned her father, pulling at his beard. "Are we ever going to get her married off? Its already summer and with all them dragons coming night after night we're barely going to have enough to feed Hogstand, let alone a fully grown adult."

She glared at him. "That eager to get rid of me are you?"

"Astrid, you're nineteen now," sighed her mother. "You should have been married off long ago. Your Dad and I were married when we were twelve. What are you going to do when we're gone? If it keeps going at this rate you'll have no-"

"I'll support myself! I'll learn how to weave!"

"You hate weaving and you're terrible at it too!"

"I'm not entirely useless. I saved Hog from that Nightmare last night, didn't I?" she replied hotly.

Sensing that her daughter's volatile nature was bubbling dangerously close to boiling point, Freda Hofferson placed a calming hand on her arm.

"Yes, and we're very grateful for that," she said quietly. "Astrid love, when you get married you'll have a whole new set of opportunities open to you. You'll be in charge of the household and the whole estate your husband owns. Even he won't question your judgment. That's tremendous freedom for a woman. Wouldn't you like that?"

"No," she spat. "I don't think being a man's breeding cow is worth the price of being locked up on a farm for forty years."

Her mother exchanged a exasperated look with her husband. Astrid glowered and folded her arms. After having witnessed the stunted lives of those her age who had already undergone the shackles of matrimony, Astrid was firmly set against the whole idea. Her friend Ruffnut barely had time to socialise any more since the birth of the twins and even before that she was stuck inside doing boring things such as estate administration and darning Fishlegs's socks.

"Wilda? Is there anything? _Anyone_ out there?" pleaded her father.

The wizened woman studied them all for a moment before she shook the bag. Rocking back and forth in a trance, she whispered in tongues.

"Reveal."

As the three stones spilled upright onto the metal dish, there was a sharp in take of breath by all the Hoffersons. Wilda took a moment to decipher the symbols before lifting her head in crooked toothless grin.

"She will be married when the first apples fall."

Astrid felt as if she had been hit by Thor's hammer.

"FINALLY!" Her father whooped with joy, grabbing her mother in a bear hug.

It was as if Loki had come and literally stolen all words from Astrid's mouth. She sat there, completely dumb struck by her tragic fate. It wasn't fair.

"Oh, Astrid, you lucky thing! You get to have a harvest wedding!" gushed her mother.

She blinked in reply. Her mother was a traditionally built Viking woman, gushing and giggling were things that someone who could crush tree trucks with their bare hands should simply not be allowed to do.

"I can't wait!" boomed her father. "Don't you worry, Astrid. Daddy's gonna go all out for your big day! We'll get five wild boars and I'll start collecting the honey for the honey mead this week. We'll have piles of it by the time harvest's here. Mark my words, everyone will be talking about your wedding for years to come! And I'll wear my Dad's good red cloak. You know the nice one, Freda? The one that I wore at our wedding day?"

"You're too fat for it now, Milkweed."

"I was twelve when I wore it last, woman! It'll finally fit me now."

"Who're are you codding, you over grown walrus? You're a queer sight fatter then your Dad now. Get a new cloak. You look good in blue."

Astrid stared down at her hands glumly as they bickered. It wasn't just the idea of being a slave to some man whims. It was the whole eternity thing as well. Astrid didn't think she could handle looking at the same face day in and day out until Hel finally decided to put her out of her misery.

From across the table, Wilda gave her a kind, reassuring smile. "Marriage ain't so bad, lass. Sure, I've been married five times meself. All of them were fine good men. It makes me sad to think that they all got eaten by the dragons, except Lousylip," she paused. "_He_ fell off a cliff."

Astrid managed a weak smile. She still hadn't regained the ability to speak.

"So who's the lucky bastard then, Wilda?" Her father's grin could have split the clouds.

"A kind and generous leader," began the woman. "It will be a long happy marriage. All children born will survive to reach a ripe old age."

"Snotlout then! Excellent. I'll go meet with Spitelout an-"

"It is not Snotlout," said Wilda sharply.

Astrid's heart sang with relief. At least she would not have to share a bed with that ignorant son of a troll.

"-The man your daughter will marry will be a great adventurer. An unconventional soul if you will. One who uses his head rather than his hands."

His smile faltered a little. "What? He head butts people?"

Astrid rolled her eyes. Her father was good at many things, none of which involved intelligence or thinking.

"He-" Wilda paused in surprise. "Now isn't that interesting? He will come riding on a Dragon's back."

* * *

It could be said that Dragons were a lot like dogs, for they championed many of man's best friend's key qualities. They were loyal, devoted and incredibly trusting once they got over the initial stage of trying to eat you. That and they'd do anything for a good belly rub. Of course, Hiccup would never say this to Toothless. Mainly because he didn't want a ball of fire in the face. However, at that moment in time Toothless was behaving in a very canine-like way indeed as he happily dug the ground with his forepaws. Hiccup strongly suspected that the hole had a more benevolent purpose behind it though.

He shook off the thought and fixed his one good eye on the target before him. Thankfully for sports such as archery, perfect vision, though helpful, was not a necessity. Hiccup steady his aim as he drew the bow string back. Steady... Steady.

"BANG!"

Hiccup's arrow flew at what sounded like a thunderstorm followed by an earthquake and embedded itself in the gate by the far wall, tens of metres off its mark. Cursing to himself, he glared around for the source of distraction.

In the centre of the courtyard lay the large bronze prayer wheel, split down the middle like a cake on top of the dusty remains of the stone Buddha statue. Hiccup groaned with defeat.

It had happened again.

Toothless plucked the long spindly tail of a dazed Five Claw Lopslang out of the rubble with his teeth with effortless grace. He then gave the little dragon a good shake before dropping it in the hole he had been working on. As he began to push the dirt back in, Hiccup raised him voice in protest.

"_Toothless!"_

His dragon gave him a disappointed stare.

Hiccup sighed. Luckily, the courtyard was empty of all potential witnesses. The monks had barricaded themselves up in the hall to preform a exorcism on what they thought was the restless spirit of the Lama's dead cat, Pong. This of course was incorrect. Hiccup had discovered the dragon stowed away in his back pack two days previously and since then the curious little fella had embarked upon a campaign of gorilla warfare against Wu Zhao monastery. Broken statues, scorched tapestries and melted singing bowls were just a few of the casualties.

He felt terrible because he was only a visitor to their monastery and they had treated him with nothing but kindness for weeks. Normally he would have come clean straight away about the Lopslang's existence but the old dears were besides themselves with excitement. And excitement like the air was in dangerously short supply up in the remote Snowy Caps. The monks had even brought out their rarely used dragon masks and some special alcohol the Emperor had given them to celebrate his crowning.

The dirt covered Lopslang climbed out of the hole and walked unsteadily into the wooden pillar just beside Hiccup with a thunk. He bent down and scratched the little creature behind his ears. There was a jealous growl as Toothless butted in, demanding full attention.

"What are we going to do with him, boy?" he muttered, tickling his old friend under his jaw.

Toothless smacked his gums together in an obvious eating motion.

He shook his head. "He's a sacred dragon. You don't want the whole of the Middle Kingdom after us because you decided to turn their national symbol into a light appetiser."

The Night Fury remained unconvinced.

There was a small sneeze and the pillar beside Hiccup went up in green flames. The Lopslang peered up at him with his large innocent eyes and a lick of his nostrils.

"I think Snuffles would be a good name for him. Whaddayah say?"

Toothless grunted, slamming his paw down on the tiny terror's tail before it could go and wreck more havoc.

"HICCUP!" yelled a frantic voice.

There was a scurry of movement as he stuffed the Five Claw in his breast pocket. Toothless stood strategically in front of the broken statue, blocking it from view. From around the corner, Chin Tu, the small, round word master came puffing and panting towards them.

"Buddha preserved me," he wheezed, skidding to a halt before them. Hiccup could have sworn that he heard a crack as the man bent over to regain his breath.

"Er, I would like to say for the record that the pillar just ignited by itself." He pointed lamely to the smouldering timber. Inside his pocket, 'Snuffles' gave a happy squeak.

"Never mind! Never mind!" Chin Tu batted his words away. "Something remarkable has just happened. Come with me."

He seized Hiccup by the wrist and dragged him off in the direction of the Meditation Hall. Toothless trotted beside him, growling every time Snuffles so much as twitched.

"So... did you make contact with Pong?" Hiccup hoped he didn't sound too guilty.

The old monk nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes! Pong was just trying to give us some heavenly guidance all along. His Holiness has been taken over by the light and is currently receiving messages from our brothers and sisters awaiting reincarnation on the other side."

Hiccup had never quite understood the whole rebirth concept but then again he was a Viking. A fat lady carrying them off to the halls of Valhalla sounded equally, if not more ridiculous. At least he had ale though in his afterlife.

"And what exactly does this have to do with me?"

The man didn't answer as they entered the large airy Hall. All twenty of the Monastery's monks were crowded around their leader in the centre of the large woollen prayer mat.

The smiley faced Lama was not in his most dignified state by all accounts. Not that the crazy old coot ever was dignified, far from it, but even this was beyond his insanity. He had his hands tucked underneath his armpits as he bobbed his head back and forth whilst making loud clucking noises.

"Boc-boc-boc-_BOCAAWW_!"

Hiccup exchanged a dumbfounded look with his dragon as they watched the man crouch down on his haunches as he attempted to lay an egg.

"Why is he impersonating a chicken?"

"He's just reliving one of his previous incarnations," explained Chin Tu. "It happens to those who have met with the divine light. Master Fu Kiu is blessed with their guidance the most. He was a sea cucumber once. Incredibly boring creatures really. He just lies on the ground when he's channelling it. That is until you try and approach him; Then he soils himself."

Hiccup nodded politely. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure if he was amongst monks or madmen though he had a sneaking suspicion that there wasn't much difference between the two. Beside him, Toothless shook his head.

"I think that its supposed to be about fried dragon eggs!" said one of the monks, examining a piece of scroll.

"Then what are those squiggly bits there?" pointed out the extremely thin monk by the name of Fu Kiu.

"Bits of egg shell?"

"Nah! It looks more like a pile of vomit. Maybe Hiccup'll catch Dragon fever on one of his travels."

The monks argued amongst one another, pulling at the paper as they tried to decipher its meaning.

"Stop that!" roared Chin Tu. "You'll break it, you idiots. The message concerns you," he added, catching Hiccup's quizzical expression.

"Are you sure?" Hiccup highly doubted that he was important enough to register on his own Gods' radar, let alone a foreign God's one.

"Quite sure. The Lama drew a picture of you. Eye patch and all. Brothers, the scroll please?"

The monks rushed forward with the piece of parchment and placed it in his outstretched hand.

It took Hiccup a few moments to make sense of the Lama's childish doodles. Up in the top right hand corner was what he presumed to be Toothless (although it looked more like a happy mouse with wings) with an one eyed stick figure riding on his back. At the centre was what only could be describe as-

"Berk," he said automatically. "That's the Berk Islands. My home land."

* * *

A/N: It will probably be two weeks until I update next. I have a lot of assignments to do for college so please be patient. To all those who reviewed before, I thank you for your kind words of encouragement. To everyone else, I would love to hear you opinion whether it be good, bad or indifferent.

Also, I am looking for a BETA reader and despite having been on this website since 2003 I have no idea how to go about getting one. If any of you are interested or know of someone who might be, please don't hesitate to send me a PM about it.

Many thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: How to Train Your Dragon belongs to its respective owners.

Chapter Two

Hiccup reckoned that the Gods had been feeling particularly challenged the day that they had dreamt humans up. And who wouldn't have been? Creating clouds out of giant's brains and dwarfs from maggots was exhausting work (with a lot of walking involved). So it was hardly surprising that they had grown sluggish by the time they came to the two trees from which human life was to be crafted. After all, only lazy negligence could excuse the fact that the human head looked like a plate of minced beef topped with water cress.

Man's body was a construction of oddities and imperfections. Feet, for example, were a big one on the Richter scale of weird. Although it must be said that this affliction was shared by most living things. Only certain species of marine wildlife had anything to be proud of when it came to movability. Feet had most likely been designed in the same workshop that turned out such classics as the platypus, along with those ugly organs that made people pull strange faces and roll about in hay together.

Oh yes, the human body was a strange yet glorious thing... When it worked. Unfortunately, the gods had thrown in a little thing called old age, and humans suffered a depressingly less dignified death compared to that of a lowly platypus. It was hardly fair that even the platypus got to keep its fur.

This was probably the Gods way of getting back at those humans who were too damn clever for their own good. Although some might say that the disintegration of the brain along with the body was an act of twisted kindness on their part. A sort of coping mechanism that insured that when certain bodily functions cease to work, one's mind reverts back to the early years of childhood. After all, young children and babies have no qualms over soiling themselves so it only seems fitting that those who can no longer control their bowels should either.

Hiccup doubted that the Lama had ever reached a stage of sensible adulthood. From what he had gathered, the monk had jumped straight from the cot into his second childhood, skipping all the stages in between. It wasn't a matter of decay, although the Lama did resemble the sun shrivelled remains of a Sky Burial. He was a perpetual child, and for the most part a very bored one who felt the need to set his inferiors ridiculous tasks just to keep himself amused.

Until the day Toothless and himself had arrive at the monastery, the monks had apparently been trapped in an endless cycle of funeral rites. No one had actually died, it was just that one morning the Lama had decided that he was going to. Not wanting to upset the man, the monks had lined up dutifully next to their leader's Sky Burial Platform and watched over him as he lay on it, naked as the day he was born.

Of course, by nightfall the Lama had changed his mind and they all went back inside to eat dinner, only to repeat the process the following day for the next three months. Hiccup was positive that he would never be able to wash the disturbing mental image of the old naked man jumping up and down on the platform pointing upwards at them as they arrived.

"Tea! Don't forget the tea. _BOCAWW!_" clucked his Holiness. He still hadn't shaken off the affects of his past life experience.

Hiccup sat by the gate in the courtyard beside Toothless. A stuffed Snuffles, lay in a comatosed state inside the breast of his Giuba robe. The critter had gorged himself into unconsciousness on a feast of prayer flags and beef stuffed bread. Hiccup made a mental note to double all portions of food for the little dragon.

Despite their age, the monks darted to and forth in a bustle of bald heads and orange robes as they tried to stuff as many of the Lama's belongings as they could into one large brown bag.

"Er, I don't think Toothless will be able to carry that much," said Hiccup, raising his voice.

The monks stopped and looked to their leader. The Lama's rumpled face fell.

"Really?" he asked in a small disappointed voice.

Hiccup nodded. "_Really_."

Toothless gave them a definite growl.

The Lama hung his head for a moment before clapping his hands together. "All right! Everything out except the tea!"

"But your holiness-" began Fu Kiu. He was cut short by a large fan walloping him in the face.

"Silence, you-boc-boc-bocaaww!"

Hiccup wasn't quite sure where the Lama kept his trusty fan. He didn't particularly want to know either. Some mysteries were best left unsolved. He sighed and looked at Toothless. The reptile rolled his eyes.

Unfortunately for the two of them, the Lama had decided that he would be accompanying them on their journey home. The decision had been made the night before, after the man had finally stopped trying to lay an egg.

Hiccup had tried to reason with him. Even going as far as telling him that Vikings were crass, uneducated people who liked nothing more than dragon hunting and killing puppies (although the puppies bit was only occasionally true). This, of course, had only fuelled the Lama's interest. Had Hiccup told him that Vikings liked to sit indoors watching motes of dust twirl through the air then he probably would have gone back to lying on the Sky Burial Platform.

"Will this do?"

Hiccup stared down at the ugly mask in Chin Tu held in his hand. It was made of dark wood and looked as if it has been fashioned on a potato with a crooked cucumber for a nose. Hiccup squinted. At least he hoped it was a cucumber.

"I looked through all the masks like you asked. Its the lightest one we have."

Hiccup took it. "What is it supposed to be?" he asked, studying it curiously.

"An ancient fertility god."

He almost dropped the thing.

"Delightfully primitive, isn't it? In ancient times I believe, the local Shaman in this area would wear it as he sat outside the tent of a newly married couple, chanting child inducing songs. Doesn't the nose look remarkably like a cucumber?"

Hiccup highly doubted that the artist had vegetables in mind when he created this particular piece. He grimaced and stared down at the mask. Toothless rumbled with laughter.

"It's part of a matching set. They had a deep appreciation of melons as well. Would you like that one instead? The mounds on it are particularly detailed."

"Er, no thanks," he replied quickly.

Beggars couldn't be choosers after all and from experience, the alternative was usually a lot worse. Maybe if he shaved a little off the nose it wouldn't look quite so provocative.

"I'll probably make a few adjustments."

"Really? It seems like such a shame."

"I just don't want the wind em, blowing it off."

Thankfully, all unintentional innuendoes went unnoticed by the monk. Chin Tu was the type of person who would not only inquire as to how the shovel got stuck in Doug's head, but what sort of life changing impacts it had on him afterwards.

"If you must, I suppose," sighed the monk. "I'm just happy that its getting to see some action again." The monk looked around before bending over to whisper in his ear. "Just don't let his Holiness see it though. He'll giggle like a ninny for days afterwards."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied dryly.

"Chin Tu?"

The monk turned to the crowd of hopeful faces behind him.

"Yes, Sum Ting?"

"Er." Sum Ting twiddled his fingers together. "We have all been thinking about how dangerous the trip might be for His Holiness and... Well, we've come to the conclusion that it might be a good idea if you accompany him to the Barbarian North."

Chin Tu's eyes bulged dangerously. "What? So that you lot can go down to the village and get drunk on jiu and play Ming Mang? Did you know that we had fifteen formal complaints from the Lord the last time I left you unsupervised? If memory serves me correctly Sum Ting Wong, you were caught relieving yourself on the his Lordship's bed whilst wearing a chicken carcass on your head!"

"Vulture actually," mumbled the monk.

The senior monk pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. "You are supposed to be disciples of Buddha. Responsible pillars of the community, not-"

"But twelve of the complaints were made about his Holiness, remember?" piped up Fu Kiu.

Hiccup's eyes widened and he turned to Chin Tu. "I don't care who it is who comes, but you are not leaving him alone with me."

He would have more then enough to contend with without having to keep an eye on the crazy monk. After all, his father was Stoic the Vast. The colossal mane of red hair and muscle who could rip a dragon's head clean off its shoulders with his bare hands. Hiccup would have rather run all twenty six thousand feet of Roof Top Mountain whilst being chased by a hoard of hungry cannibals then confront him any day.

"Fine!" Chin Tu relented finally. "I'll go but I'm calling in Sister Si Soah-"

There was a collective groan.

"-So you better all dispose of those mattresses you've been hiding in the kitchen."

"But that's not fair!" whined Fu Kiu. "That woman is a fanatic. She'll take away my woolly socks! A man needs some comfort in his later years."

"Do you want to look after His Holiness?"

Hiccup had never seen a group of old men scatter so quickly in his life.

"Well," sighed Chin Tu. "I must get packing- NO, YOUR HOLINESS! NO! YOU MUSTN'T CLIMB THE PRAYER FLAG POLE!"

Hiccup watched the man rush off in the direction of the renegade Lama. Toothless shot his human an accusatory look.

"Hey! Don't give me that," he said. "I don't want them coming along any more then you do. At least we'll have Chin Tu to babysit him though... Odin, I wonder what Dad's gonna think of them."

The Fury made a loco motion to the side of his head with the tip of his tail. Hiccup nodded in agreement. Old Stoic was going to think that they were insane, but not for the right reasons. Anyone who didn't believe in raping, pillaging and dragon killing was dangerously psychotic in his father's book. Not that his father had a book. He wouldn't be caught dead reading one.

It was bitterly ironic that his son represented everything Stoic hated. Hiccup shook off the thought. He knew that his presence would be less welcomed in Berk than a bag full of Terrors, the villagers would at least be able to kill the tiny dragons. They would not kill Hiccup because he was Stoic's son. In that sense it made him all the more pathetic.

Sensing his discomfort, Toothless nudged his head with his nose in an affectionate manner. The man gave him a weak smile. At least he had the mask. As long as he wore that then no one would ever know who he was..._is_. He would definitely have to do something about the nose however. Hiccup glared at the thing and stuffed it in his satchel along with the rest of his meagre belongings. It was cowardly, but he was good at doing cowardly.

And just maybe... _hopefully,_ that cowardice would allow him to attain the unimaginable. No one would listen to Hiccup Horrendous Traitor Haddock the third that was for sure. They might, however, listen to some impartial outsider. It was a long shot, but if he was able to convince them about the true nature of dragons, then maybe things would turn out alright... He would have to be incredibly smart about it though. After all, Viking's were very stubborn people.

Hiccup knew that he was ready to do anything to change their minds, even if it meant throwing away his own identity. With a careful eye, he inspected Toothless's prosthetic wing. The leather was beginning to crack a little and the stitching had seen better days.

"We'll need to stop by Valmiki's on the journey," he told his friend. "The leather's starting to show wear. He'll probably have something that's a bit more durable like dragon hide kno- Don't worry!" he added hastily. "After you burnt down his stall the last time, I'm pretty sure that he went and rethought the ingredients for that baldness cure of his. I don't think he'll try and shave your claws again."

The Dragon smirked triumphantly.

Three hours later, they had finally gotten the Lama tied securely to Toothless's back. It had been quite exhausting trying to pin him down. Lots of elbows and swearing involved. Hiccup rubbed the swelling bruise on his cheek from where the man had kicked him.

"I'm sorry your Holiness, but I don't want you falling off during mid flight," he told the disgruntled man kindly.

The Lama stuck out his tongue like a child. Toothless hissed at him.

By the gate, Chin Tu busy was finalising some ground rules with the rest of the monks. His bag of luggage looked even smaller than Hiccup's.

"-Right! Now remember, the seventh day of Saga Dawa Duchen is coming up so there will be a lot of pilgrims arriving this week. I expect you all on your best behaviour while they and Sister Si Soah are here. That means no alcohol, no gambling and definitely no women! Do I make myself clear?"

"...Crystal," moaned Sum Ting.

"If I hear so much as a whisper about you lot misbehaving, I will write to the Dalai Lama himself and have you all enrolled in a two week faith retreat. _Do I make myself clear?_!"

"Crystal!" they grumbled unanimously.

"Sister Si Soah will be here some time later this evening, so I hope that you all have everything precious packed away somewhere that she can't find it."

"She always finds it!" wailed Fu Kiu.

"That's your problem then. We'll be back-" He turned to Hiccup.

The man shrugged as he strapped on his body harness. It could take weeks or months, maybe even years depending on just how hard it was to drill reason into the Berkians' heads.

"We'll be back," repeated Chin Tu with a worried look on his face. "Eventually anyway. Now everyone, wave goodbye to his Holiness."

"Bye Bye, your Holiness! Bring us back some booze!"

"Never fear, my sons!" grinned the Lama, forgetting that he was tied upright to the back of a dragon. "If ever you are lost, there is a copy of the Karma Sutra hidden within the Scroll of Second Truth in the Library. Look to it for guidance when I am gone, for my greatness has been absorbed into all its many illustrations."

Hiccup had never heard of the Karma Sutra before and judging by the immensely disturbed expressions on the monks faces, it was probably a good thing. Chin Tu steadied himself uneasily as he sat down behind the Lama.

"Are you sure this is safe?"

Hiccup nodded. "Just hold on to the rope tight and don't let go. Come on boy."

Toothless let out a deafening roar as they shot into the sky. The wind whistled through his ears, the Lama was screaming with eager excitement. Chin Tu was screaming for entirely different reasons. As they levelled with the endless horizon to the west, Hiccup felt his heart flutter. He was going home.

* * *

For a small village, Berk's communal hall had quite the array of tapestries and sculptures. The subject however, lacked in creative diversity however. Berkian Vikings were a brutal yet practical bunch who believed that if art could not kill a dragon it should, at the very least, show you how to. In each and every one of the seven huge tapestries there was a winged reptile in some sort of physical distress; Missing heads... Severed limbs... Guts hanging out... Skinned alive.

The creator had taken a huge amount of artistic liberty with the "skinning" tapestry however, either that or they'd never actually met a dragon before. There was only one way to get a Monstrous Nightmare to stay still long enough to skin it and that was by burying an axe in its head. Astrid's chest swelled with a sense of pride. No self respecting Dragon slayer would make that mistake.

A loud bang interrupted her thoughts. She peered through the throng of bodies towards the head of the table. Forty years old and Stoic the Vast still looked like a meat mallet that hadn't been cleaned. Everything about him was raw and red and robust, from his bulbous nose right down to his barrel shaped legs. A perfect specimen of Vikinghood by all accounts.

He did not plead.

He did not beg.

And he certainly did not ask for help.

"I received King Harefoot's reply today," he began the solemnly. "A fleet will be arriving soon from Denmark. Until then we will embark upon anot-"

There was an angry hiss from the crowd. The dragon raids may have increased but they still had their pride. Stoic raised his hands and hammered them against the loud voices.

"We can no longer hold them back by ourselves. We've lost a third of our live stock already. If this keeps up we won't survive through winter. King Harefoot is an old friend of mine and has agreed to-"

"At what price?" piped up a voice from the back.

The villagers mumbled in agreement. It was widely acknowledged that a King did not become King through the means of anything pleasant. There was usually a lot of cutting and stabbing involved.

Stoic exchanged a dark look with his brother Spitelout. "That I name his youngest son as my heir."

The hall exploded. Astrid had to cover her ears for fear that they would burst at the ringing clamour of metal and voices.

"A Prince? Well, I ain't having it!" bellowed Trotmouth, the bread maker. "They don't understand our way of life. He'll probably insist on all those fancy city things like equal wages."

"And grooming kits!" added Ruffnut and Tuffnut's father, Headbutt. "From what I hear they're big fans of tweezers and all that malarkey. Before you know it we'll all be forced to wash twice a week. What about Snotlout? I thought he was supposed to be the next chief in line? At least he's one of us."

In a small way it was a blessing that Snotlout Jorgeson would not be their future leader. Stupid, arrogant and obnoxious. Astrid for one, couldn't stand the sight of him. But neither the less, she shook with the same indignant anger that possessed her fellow men. Berk worked. It didn't need or want any outside interference. It wouldn't accept any outside interference. And certainly not from some scarless, educated city boy.

Stoic banged the table for order. "SHUT UP AND LISTEN!"

Everyone went silent.

"Now, I'm not keen on the idea of an outsider being in charge myself either," he told them. "But a deal is a deal and unless someone suddenly comes up with way to solve our dragon problem then we're stuck with him. Now I want two hundred of you at the docks in half an hour. Our only hope now is to destroy that nest before he gets here!"

"Don't worry!" said Gobber cheerfully over the muttering crowd. "If all else fails we can always make sure that he has an unfortunate run in with a Nightmare."

This seemed to lighten the mood considerably. Astrid watched in amusement as her people discussed the various ways they could dispose of Harefoot's youngest son. From dragons to a helpful push off the top of Troll's Snot Mountain. There was a sharp dig to her rib, Astrid's stomach dropped at the sight of her mother's conspiratorial smile.

"I've been thinking, love," the woman began. "About this Harefoot one. Do you think he might be, you know-" she dropped her voice. "Mr "married by the first apples"?"

Astrid gritted her teeth. Her mother and father had already begun the wedding preparations for the wedding that didn't exist. If "mystery-non-existent-dragon-riding" man just so happened to turn up due to some bend in the Universe's logic, then her parents were planning to chuck her at him the very minute he arrived. Astrid wasn't worried though. Not really.

Oh, Wilda had almost convinced her too about his existence. She had been sitting there, lamenting her stolen youth until the old woman had let it slip about the whole dragon riding business. People did not ride dragons. Not now. Not ever.

Her parents, on the other hand, were holding onto every little stay bit of hope they could find.

"-You should wear that nice breast plate I got you from Iceland last year. You know the one with the cones on it? You're a little on the flat side still so it'll help fill you out a bit."

Astrid glared at her. There was no way in Hell she was wearing that monstrosity of metal and string.

"If you'll please excuse me, Mom," she said coolly. "I need to go and talk with Stoic."

She pushed through the crowd, towards where the man stood pouring over a map. Astrid tightened her grip on her axe she approached. Maybe this time he would say yes.

"Excuse me, Stoic?"

He lifted his head. "Yes Astrid?"

Ever the formidable presence, Astrid was shocked to see just how tired he was. The raids had taken a tremendous toll on everyone, but somehow he looked the worst. His once strong shoulder appeared to be curved slightly beneath an invisible weight. His beard and mane were streaked with white and his eyes... His eyes no longer burned with the same intensity that they had before. They probably hadn't for seven years...

Astrid pulled back her shoulders and levelled her own gaze to his. "I was wondering if you needed any extra hands for the search?"

Stoic's brow creased beneath his horned helmet. "You want to come with us to the dragons' nest?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

The chieftain's shook his head. "No."

"Why not?" she demanded, her eyes flashing. "I'm one of your best fighters!"

He eyes bore into her own. "I need people to look help look after the little ones while we're gone. Who's going to keep that brother of yours in line?"

"Hogstand is eleven now. He can take care of himself. Besides, my parents-"

"They're coming with me, girl. I need seasoned fighters not spring chickens. Most of the ships never come back and you know it. You've got your whole life ahead of you. I've told you time and time again but you just won't listen! After you'-"

"I want to fight dragons, Stoic!" she begged. "Please! I'm good at it. Please just let me-"

"Astrid," he sighed. "Look, its nothing personal. Its just with the way things are going at the moment, well... It doesn't matter about what happens to us old ones. We've done what we need to do. If I let a smart, brave girl such as yourself like get eaten by a Zippleback, I've not only failed but..." He trailed off with a distant look in his eye. "Go home, throw a few axes into a tree or something... Just- Just focus on something else other then dragons." And with that he turned on his heel and marched out of the hall.

Astrid screamed and buried her axe into a nearby pillar, ignoring the odd looks she was getting. Rage tore at her insides. She breathed in deeply, trying to force it back under its restraints. It just wasn't fair. The sudden weight of a comforting hook on her shoulder made her jump.

"Don't take it to heart girl," said Gobber with a grin. "Its just his way of making sure no one has to go through the same stuff he did."

"Its pathetic, that's what it is!" she snapped. "How are we ever going to get to the nest if Stoic keeps on leaving all the younger, stronger fighters behind, huh? Its completely ridiculous, not to mention unfai-"

"Unfair?" Gobber finished with a nod. "Of course it is."

Astrid bit down on her bottom lip. She had been saying those words quite a lot lately. For someone who prided herself in her composure she was behaving like a spoilt child.

"When Hiccup went he took a big part of his dad with him," the man continued on. "Stoic's now the last remaining Haddock there is. His brother, Spitelout took their mother's surname and Stoic never took another wife after Valhallarama. Don't think bad of him, Astrid. He's only doing what he thinks is right."

"Isn't everybody?" she said coldly. "Listen, I'd be honoured to die protecting our village. I-"

"Honour is a poor comfort for those left behind, Astrid."

She shut her mouth immediately.

"I ain't saying that what Stoic is doing is smart, but I understand why he's doing it. Its his way of redeeming himself so that he can face Hiccup when he meets him in the Halls."

"If Hiccup was alive right now I'd pound his face in for getting himself eaten by a Night Fury," she growled. "Typical Haddock for making everything bloody awkward for everyone else!"

Gobber laughed. "Never a truer word's been said. I guess that some rivalries never die, do they?"

Astrid frowned. Awkward, idiotic and down right reckless Hiccup had become a folk legend within their village since his death. It was true, she couldn't help but feel an old pang of jealously whenever she heard his name mentioned.

"Tell you what! How about you help me with the recruits?" asked Gobber suddenly. "We've got quite the number of them this year. Whaddyah say? It'll just be like old times."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Really?"

"Of course! Who better to learn from then Berk's best, Astrid Hofferson? The kids will be over the moon with you there. I'll pay you too. Not much but it'll keep your parents off your back for the time being."

Astrid shot him a rare smile. She'd always liked Gobber. He was a decent man. A bit crass but decent none the less. Dragon Survival Training was seasonal work, not something that she could do for more than three months out of the year. At least it would keep her busy until the ice setted in. Besides, now was her chance to show them how it was done.

"Come down to the ring tomorrow at dawn break and I run over the ins and outs before the kids get there. Your brother's starting with us this year, right?"

"Don't worry," said Astrid with a steely resolve. "I won't go easy on him."

The man smiled. "Spoken like a true Hofferson. I'll see you tomorrow then. Bright and early."

She gave him a sharp salute.

A/N: I would like to say yet again that all your comments and criticism are greatly appreciated. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews you have sent me about this story so far. I'm surprised that there are over 20 reviews for only two chapters. Really, thank you so much. I value all your opinions so please, let me know what you think.

Many Thanks.


End file.
